The Marine War
by Maponus
Summary: A tale from the long lost days of the pre-Heresy Golden Age, when the Emperor walked among men, the Marine War relates how the Adeptus Astartes defeated a pocket Empire called the Terran Dominion, and triumphed over the vile Zerg and Protoss Xenos.
1. Chapter 1: The Coming of Dorn

"_The Compliance of the so-called Koprulu Sector and the systems within it is notable not only for the prolonged time the so-called "Terrans" were able to hold out against the Astrates, but because the society encountered by Rogel Dorn and the Brother Primarchs who later joined the Crusade to take the sector represents everything our young Imperium should never be. Corrupt and moribund, the Dominion and the smaller factions had hovered over it's dying corpse are an ample lesson as to what humanity would face without our Emperor and the Warmaster Horus protecting us."_

_-Claudius Antonov, Imperial Remembrancer _

"_I swear in God all mighty's name, those yellow painted sons of harlots gonna regret what they did here sir."_

_-Unnamed Marine_

"The Dominion is humanities only hope for unity," the heavy Korhalian drawl and deep self-confidence of the voice and repetitive marching music coming from the Bars TV could only mean one thing, Emperor Mengsk was giving another of his god-damned speeches, "Unity is what is needed in face of the multiple threats which us assail every day. The nightmarish Zerg-"

Bob groaned into his cheap beer, even though the Zerg were as close to nightmares as anyone was ever gonna get this side of hell, he was sick of hearing that phrase. It had sounded good in the inauguration speech but that was years back, now it just got on his nerves. Mengsk had taken to using more and more stock phrases of late, like a badly written cartoon superhero repeating it's catchphrases.

"My Benevolent Monarchy" Bob hatred that phrase too, especially since he had no idea what Monarchy meant "Shields humanity from the darkness around us, the threat of know and unknown enemies. Remember the Protoss Intervention, the UED Invasion, and the First Great War? I and I alone have provided the _leadership-_" usually, Mengsk lost his cool here, his voice rising in anger as he pronounced the word "that lead humanity through the darkness. I admit-" Bob looked up startled, Mengsk never admitted to anything! "That civil liberties have suffered, I admit there have been mistakes. I am not as young-" everyone had stopped moving in the Bar, somewhere something tiny dropped "as I once was. In acknowledgment of this, I am appointing-" he gulped, as if being forced to speak "Prince Valerian as my deputy, he is capable of winning this war. His…. victory on Char had show he is… worthy of the high office I offer… and eventual succession to the Throne of the Dominion. I shall take a back seat role… Long Live Valerian, Long Live the Dominion," Bob's mouth hung open, Mengsk's voice was actually shaking!

Something crashed outside the Bar, and as one they turned to face the door.

"Valerian! Speak to me you son of a-"

"Nice to see you too, Jimmy" Valerian inspected a vintage wine label intently, "to what do I own the pleasure?"

"You aren't expecting me to let you take that sonofabitches offer up are you? I fought to end the Dominion not to make you deputy, goddamnit kid. I won't prop up another tryant." Jimmy Raynor was in a rage, as was to be expected of a man who suspected he was about to be double-crossed for a second time. He had been drinking, of course. He'd expected to be able to hold back now Kerrigan was back, but he still.. needed it. Besides, she wasn't talking to him, or for that matter anyone.

"My father will do anything to remain in power, even if it means giving up some of that power," mused Valerian, "He really does believe deep down that he has always acted for the best of the whole Dominion, a delusion typical amongst the selfish. It will simplify matters somewhat to bypass a violent overthrow of the Dominion. But don't worry, I'm not decided yet, it will be expedient to wait and see what happens over the next few mouths. I'd suggest you abstain from attacking me till after my decision. Besides, we have more important things to deal with."

"What things?" Raynor asked, suspicious.

Valerian chuckled, "Archaeology." He finally poured the wine in a glass, he was listening to that damned record again, as if Dupe boxes didn't exist "And a few things I'd like to talk to the late Queen of Blades about. But I'm busy now, we can go over things later." Valerian dismissed Raynor with a wave.

Raynor grunted, and stalked out. He don't look so busy, he thought, and thudded the cold metal wall of the ship.

Astartes, Angels of Death.

Rogel Dorn of the Imperial Fist Legion surveyed the planetary system rising up before his flagship, _Phalanx_, as he considered the role of his warriors in the Great Crusade. A shame, he thought, that humanity must be forced in Compliance so often, that so many cultures and states must suffer oblivion in battle before learning the truth. While he in no way doubted the role of the Astartes was that of Liberators, sent to bring light to the worlds lost to chaos during the Age of Strife, he sometimes wondered why the words of the Iterators were not enough to make those lost in the Age of Strife see the errors of there ways? If man was so noble, why must he be policed by supermen engineered to kill him? Was not man rational, and was not reason innately good, as the great Sindermann taught? Or was his brother Curze right, and must man be taught only through fear, and through the threat of reprisals? Was man such a beast to be ruled by force alone?

He shuddered at the thought of his malcontent brother Primarch's philosophy and the manner in which his Night Lords carried it out, and made a mental note to challenge Curze's incorrect views in future.

Now was the time to deal with the Compliance of the sector. His thoughts could be left for later, now was the time to martial the Legion. The Imperial Fists prided themselves on their record of conquest and on the efficiency with which they effected compliance. Dorn was said to be second only to Horus in military genius. The Great Crusade to reclaim the stars was the purpose for which he had been engineered, a Primarch of the Emperor, commander of a whole Legion of the Adeptus Astartes.

"Does the world have a fleet?" his voice boomed out, Dorn was by the standards of humanity a Demigod, towering even over the warriors of the Astartes, the pinnacle of genetic perfection "I'm not in the mood for battling primitives, nor for accepting their inadequate gifts."

"Some ships are approaching, Lord" Sigismund, the First Captain, replied, "They are making contact, shall we answer?"

"Bring them up," sighed Dorn, "we may be able to awe them sufficiently to move on quickly. We are in need of some recruits; Fulgirm has requested our presence to help comply the Ogryn Kingdoms in the Mulciber Sector. I want to be on full strength for that operation. Apparently they build better fortresses than most others of their mutated kind."

"Coming up, Lord"

A strangely dressed commander, puffing on a pipe and wearing an extremely out of date hat, appeared on the screen. His eyes widened in surprise and he nearly choked when he saw Dorn, seated in his throne majestically, in his golden armour, the size of a small tank.

"I… Identify yourselves" he blurted, his voice had a quaint twang to it. "This here is Dominion Space, what is the meaning of this?"

Dorn stoically noted Sigismund's anger at the mortal daring to demand anything from a Primarch, and replied, "I am Rogel Dorn, Primarch of the Imperial Fists. I represent the Imperium of Man. We stand before you as Liberators, not enemies. The days of Old Night are over, and now humanity is reuniting. All you need to do is offer your compliance to the Emperor and the Imperium, and your world will be left in peace. If you do not, my Astartes will reduce you to dust."

The native commander choked, dropping his pipe. His sputtered at Dorn, "Now, I don't know nothing about what you just said Sir, but I'd thank you kindly if you didn't come over here expecting us to kiss your ass just cause you got a big ass fleet. This here is Dominion space, and the only Emperor I know is Emperor Mengsk, Gawd bless his soul. Now kindly retract your threat or will we engage, whoever you are."

Dorn persevered with his argument, while signalling to Sigismund to arm all weapons "I beg you too reconsider, your 'Emperor' is no doubt a brutal tyrant or a fallible blue blooded fool. We represent the only true Emperor, the Emperor of Mankind itself. I was like you once, and mustered to resist his coming, but I saw truth. The Imperium is the height of human civilisation. I would hate to see good men die to defend some petty kingdom. At least wait awhile before attacking, so we can demonstrate our good intentions. Your ships are pitifully small compared to our-"

He noticed the enemy ships moving into attack formation, they weren't listening.

"If you will not withdraw from Dominion space, we will open fire. I ain't no diplomat, so please discuss whatever carp you is talking with the correct agencies once you get the ass out of my system!" shouted the admiral.

Dorn shook his head, _the hubris of the lost. _It was regrettable, but it seemed some demonstration of the Emperors might was needed before these backward provincials saw sense. He switched off the jumped up little admiral and gave his orders.

"Sigismund, order the fleet to fire all lances, and then move in for an attack."

"Holy mother of God!" shouted Admiral Douglas O'Donald, as the first salvo of Imperial fire blasted into the front of the _DSS Daring. _The bridge shock violently, and somewhere something started to beep madly. "Those bastards are fast, return fire! Immediately!"

"Right away sir!" his lieutenant replied.

"And send out fighters, we aren't big enough to deal with this on our own!" Those bastards ships were huge, almost bigger than the supercarriers. He wondered how those monstrosities could land, but then, perhaps they didn't have to land. You could fight a fleet of transport inside just one.

The _Daring_ opened fire, blasting straight at the _Phalanx. _Never one to be unprepared, O'Donald had made sure the Yamato Cannon was fully charged before hailing the strangers. He gave a triumphant yell as the thick stream of plasma flew towards the Imperial Flying Fortress_. Take that assholes! _Then the plasma blistered and dissipated against an invisible barrier. _Shields? What are these guys, Protoss?_

Dorn leaned forward, finally interested. That Plasma attack had demonstrated that though these ships were inflexibly designed, they were well armed. He was glad that the enemy commander had chosen to fire on the _Phalanx_, such an attack would have broken through the shields of most other Imperial Warships. As it was, the _Phalanx _had enough shields to withstand a planetary bombardment, not counting the fortifications which the shield hung over, it had been these defences that had altered the Emperor to the genius of it's designer, Him.

"Move in closer, we don't want to risk more attacks like that" he snapped to Sigismund "These provincials won't last a second against our broadsides with such top heavy ship design, but they will do serious damage in head on head engagements. Relay my instructions to the fleet. The Emperor Protects!"

"Bah! So what they have shields, we still got numbers on our side. Are the fighters here yet?" O'Donald balled, red with rage. He knew some Terran ships had Defence Matrixes these days, but they could be seen a mile off. Invisible shields raised a problem, where they on or off, or permanent?

"Right with you, Sir" a voice echoed, Ted Delleraway the Wraith commander, "These outlanders won't know what hit 'em."

"Good to hear from you, Ted. Finish that crossword or did you decide the battle was more important already?"

"Cool it, Admiral" Ted breathed, "we have our own timetable to keep."

"You're here anyway" O'Donald had recovered his pipe and puffed seriously, "though I aren't got no idea what use you'll be if their fighters are as good as there battleships"

"Don't worry sir, we'll deal with all comers," Ted whispered.

"Under fire, Lord, from unknown sources" reported Sigismund.

"What?" Dorn inquired, this was getting more interesting by the minute.

"The pattern of fire conforms to a fighter attack, but no fighters are visible on are scopes."

Dorn nodded, reminded of the Invisibles of the False Imperium that the Lunar Wolves had subjugated. Cloaked fighters, impressive, but not a dynamic changing threat, they wouldn't be able to damage the _Phalanx_ enough to stop its progress. The rest of the fleet was already engaging the Provincial battle cruisers. To his amusement, the enemy had shown a great deal of foolishness; throwing their great plasma attacks exclusively at the _Phalanx_, ignoring the weaker vessels in the Imperial Fist Fleet. He knew from a thousand engagements you should never waste you force on the enemies strongest point.

Amongst the ranks of the Provincial fleet, a battle cruiser was annihilated by a broadside from _Imperial Power, _exploding in a colourful burst of red flame against the eternal darkness of space.

"Holy shit!" O'Donald's confidence had long been knocked out of him, and he sat trembling in his seat. "How many guns do those things have?"

The Imperial Ships were built like great sailing ships, with vast batteries of cannon on their sides, and were armoured with the great plates of shinning armour and fizzling shields. They were the best the Imperium had to offer, a symbol of the Imperium's ascendancy over the stars.

The Dominion ships however, were built like armoured rocket ships, with a single weapons battery at the tip. They were ideal for fighting ground forces and other ships of a similar design but against the Imperial fleet they were woefully inadequate. Without broadside weaponry, once an Imperial ship was alongside a Battle Cruiser it was able to rip it apart with relative impunity, though superior Dominion fighters caused some disruption. The Imperials had been confused by the clocked fighters at first, but had proceeded to ignore them, calmly destroying one Battle Cruiser after another. The _Phalanx _was barring down on them, slowly but surly, it weapons blazing.

O'Donald had had enough of this carp.

"Lieutenant, send out a signal. I'm going to surrender to these sons of bitches."

Dorn's face appeared on the screen, serious yet somehow amused, his voice was deep and powerful.

"Are you Compliant yet?"

Bob and the other occupants of the Bar, some with guns and others with pitch forks, poked gingerly at the overturned trash container, unaware of the reports of a sudden attack on Dominion space by an unknown enemy playing to an empty room inside.

"Could be a Zergling," muttered Sid.

"It's a cat I'm telling ye," replied Luke, but he kept his gun up anyway, just in case. On the frontier everything was always just in case, never sure when the clanking the backyard was a lost pet or the next Zerg offensive.

Inside the tin container, something grunted.

"That ain't no cat!" Sid said, raising his voice.

"I was in the Marines" Bob said, "Zerg is all high pitched. That too low for Zerg."

The creature emerged slowly; it was the size of a small Gorilla, but bent over and much more ugly. It was green, and looked like an illustration from a children's book. You know, the Troll under the bridge one. It was definitely male.

"It's some new kinda alien," Luke said, lowering his rifle, slightly.

"We is discoverers!" Sid enthused, "Like, First Contact and shit."

"Looks dumb," said Bob, the thing had a silly, tusky grin and a tiny skull on top of a massive jaw "Never heard of dumb aliens before."

"Ain't Zerg dumb?" asked Sid.

"No," Bob shivered just a little, "they ain't."

Eddie, the Barmen, lowered his rifle and spread out his arms.

"How 'bout we use the little fella as a mascot? For the Bar!"

_Typical_, Bob thought _Eddie don't think 'bout nothing but business._

"I don't think so, Eddie, he's kinda mean lookin', might scare customers."

Eddie ignored him, caught up in his fantasy, "Think 'bout it, first domesticated Alien mascot in the Sector. We can even let the Football team borrow the little guy, for a fee of course."

The creature opened it mouth to speak.

"See, it's trying to talk to Uncle Eddie!" cooed Eddie

"Yoz Humies," it said slowly "me iz Orky."

"What a cute name!" exclaimed Eddie.

It reached out to Eddie, "Daka" it said.

"It called me daddy!" Eddie was overjoyed, but Bob saw something wasn't right. "Look out there Eddie, he's-"

The Ork bellowed "Waaaargh!" as it head butted Eddie, breaking his back like a Christmas cracker smashed by a bull and grabbed his rifle, before turning it on the other yockels. "Orkz is best! Waaargh!" Sid was struck across the face by a wave of bullets; Luke fired and hit the creature in the arm to no effect, and got shot several times in the chest. Bob and the others had already dived for cover.

"I knew it weren't no Zerg," said Bob, and sat down on a patch of butt ugly looking mushrooms which he'd never noticed before…..


	2. Chapter 2: A Bigger Universe

**+++The Fringe+++**

"I swear it's gottan bigger."  
"It ain't" Bob assured his fellow shelter occupants, "How could it get bigger overnight? Ain't nothing can grow that fast." Inside the barn, the Ork continued to ram itself against the door, grunting loudly and occasionally talking to itself in its stupid dialect. True, it did seem as though it was much stronger than before, but Bob was sceptical as to how they anything could grow so quickly. Zerg changed, but they had to cocoon themselves first, and the Ork had done no such thing. They had killed the one outside the Bar, and had locked this one inside the barn before it armed itself.

They'd shot it at point blank range while chasing it in here; it should be dead by now. Bob had no idea where these aliens were appearing from, and so quickly.

**The**_** Phalanx, **_**Lower Decks**

Rememberancer Claudius Antonov glanced at the flashing screen, and listened with bemusement to the noise coming out of it. TV, he believed it was called, and it went a long way to explaining the ignorance of the Terrans, as the Provincials arrogantly named themselves. The incompetent admiral had had this machine installed in his own courtiers, and it spewed a 24-hour stream of distorted information, empty entertainment and countless short bursts of mad messages praising the virtues of various merchandise. He had gathered the majority of the population of this Dominion gathered almost all their worldly knowledge from this source.

"This is UNN reporting. The sudden appearance of a hostile fleet of invaders in the Sara system has been responded to with all the efficiency expected of the Dominion Armed Forces. However, the Combine Worlds are in a state of confusion before the sudden appearance of these unknown invaders, and many Combine Worlds are reportedly begging for Dominion intervention."

Antonov smiled slightly at the cunning of this Dominion, ignoring the defeat of their own warriors and turning the entire affair into a thinly veiled criticism of other factions, information was power, this at least the Dominion understood. While at first it had seemed pure idiocy, Antovov suspected there was some design behind the TV s erratic dishonesty and infantile worldview. The admiral himself had proved an amusing character, quickly blaming high command for his predicament, and it became clear from his ranting that he had been appointed through nepotism rather than skill. "Old Boys" as some of the lower ranking prisoners explained, seemed to have the run of this area of space. This went some way to explaining his foolhardy attack on the Phalanx. He would make a good engines servitor.

"This just in" the machine droned on, "we have exclusive information revealing the Kel-Morian Combine leadership has just approached the invaders with terms of peace, and are breaking from the Dominion. Our Kel-Morian Affairs expert, Judy Beck, is here to talk to us. Hey Judy."  
"Glad to be her Ken. Well, I thinks is safe to say that the Combine is not going to get anything like fair terms from these invaders, frankly, this is just the kind of cowardly behaviour we should be used to seeing from the Combine, during the UED invasion they beheaved just the same and frankly I don't see why we continue to tolerate-"  
Antonov switched off the device with a contemptuous flick, and ordered the Servitors to have it removed. He hoped to meet these Kel-Morians, he was lead to understand it was some kind of client state of the Dominion run entirely by a Mining corporative. Such interstellar Capitalist dependencies were common outside the Imperium, ruled entirely by motives of profit and survival. They were unjust and stupid constructs, far removed from the martial enlightenment of Imperial rule, but surrendered easily when it was clear that they had no ability to resist compliance. _Rats from a stinking ship_.  
Below him, the world designated Seven Five Hundred Twelve by Imperial Charts, spun slowly as the orbital platforms that defended it were ripped to shreds, making way for the drop pods of the Astartes. He didn t know what the natives called this world, and he didn t care.

**+++Location Unknown+++**

"Replay the recording."  
Static wheezed, then the deep monotone of Rogel Dorn spoke out of the Observers mechanical mouth "I represent the Imperium of Man. We stand before you as Liberators, not enemies. The days of Old Night are over, and now humanity is reuniting. All you need to do is offer your compliance to the Emperor and the Imperium, and your world will be left in peac so quickly. Zerg changed, butwill reduce you to dust."  
"I represent the Imperium of Man-"  
Orrakrok ordered the Observer to cease with the slightest movement of his hand, and considered the findings of this routine patrol of Terran space. The technology and culture of these Terrans matched no existing human world; even the fleet from the supposed home world of the race was nothing these golden armored giants. It appeared the human species was far more numerous and diverse than the Conclave had supposed. He should report this incursion to the Heriarch, and he hoped his superiors would have some answers as to why they had none nothing of this Imperium. He was about to prepare his Arbiter for the jump to Sakuras when he felt something wrong, something he never imagined feeling. A feeling so terrible, so violating and nauseating it shocked his being to the core.

Someone was looking inside his head; an alien intelligence was looking inside his mind! His hands flew to his temples, and he felt like retching onto his controls. What could desecrate the sanctuary of a Temple s mind like this? He hadn t felt like this since before his training was complete. It wasn t physical pain, just fear and a sickening sense of being looked into. Of nothing being secret, of everything being open to a great, single eye glaring down at his soul. The eye was multicoloured, and seemed at once angry, amused, curious and a thousand other things, now red, now purple, blue, white, green and red again.

He lashed out with his mind, attempting to dispel the invader. It retreated, evidently surprised by his reaction, and just before it disappeared entirely, he sensed what it was. It wasn t anything he expected; he expected a monster, an unknown race of vile creatures of unspeakable power leaping out from the void. But it wasn't, though powerful, the creatures essence was unmistakable.  
It was human! But a human with skills far beyond anything the Protross had yet encountered. He knew he must reach Shakuras immediately, the consequences of this discovery would be dire if dealt with too late.

**The**_** Phalanx, **_**Librium**

Adi Darma of the Athanaean Cult of the Thousand Sons reeled back, surprise overwhelming him as the Xenos intelligence ejected him from it. He d never had a similar experience prior to this, no human nor primitive Xeons species had ever been able to eject or even detect the presence of the Athanaeans. He moved his mind into the Lower Enumerations, passing into an emotionless state in which the shock of discovery meant little, and considered the implications of this encounter with the alien consciousness.  
Adi was posted to the Imperial Fists Legion in order to train it s infant Librarian Department, a practice common due to the disproportionate physic gifts and experience his Legion possessed, though as a Thousand Son his loyalty lay to his own Legion and his cult. The Athanaeans were one of the five Cults of the Thousand Sons each one of which practiced and honed to perfection a unique physic skill as laid out in the teachings of Magnus the Red, and their power was telepathy. Of all the Cults, the Athanaeans caused the most discomfort amongst the ignorant and bigoted, them and the far-seeing Cult of the Corvidae.

Adi rose up from his kneeling position he had taken in order to observe the will of a being so alien and far away. To be able to sense the presence and ward off an Athananean sorcerer could mean only that this race possessed physic powers equal to or greater than the Sons of Magnus.

They did at present, that is. The Sons of Magnus would soon possess greater powers than even the Elder, and through them humanity would rise to enlightenment and mastery over the cosmos.

He would not discuss this with any of the unsubtle Imperial Fists, even his own students. They would only see it as trifling in the mind of the alien, because they saw power as nothing more than a weapon, and any endeavors aimed at increasing mankind's knowledge without thought for simple bigoted codes of ethics would be lost on even the greatest of his students. Clearly, this was the race the Corvidae had spoken of, the true reason behind his presence on the Fleet of the Imperial Fists. Magnus and the Magister Templi believed that this race would possess a gate into the vast network of warp tunnels that had eluded them on Aghoru. While the rest of the Legion maintained appearances, fighting alongside the Space Wolves on the other side of the galaxy, Adi carried out his Primarch s will amongst the Sons of Dorn.  
All he had to do now was locate the girl who had been beyond humanity and came back.

**+++The _Phalanx, _****Bridge+++**

Dorn was by now used to the stubborn resistance and ignorance of the lost worlds, though it still grieved him to fight humanity, even for their own good. Though an expert of siege warfare, Dorn was by nature a builder, and was loathed to cast down the structures of his own race, and took little pleasure in the act of conquest. This attitude characterized his campaigns and system of recruitment; he complied worlds as quickly as possible, drew as many viable recruits and left the compliant worlds in peace. He was in this way unlike his brother Perturabo, who seemed to take a joyless satisfaction in the destruction and conquest of every human culture his fleet came across, leaving behind a trail of fortresses towering oppressively over the landscape, nor the slow and merciless indoctrination of populations with Imperial propaganda practiced by Lorgar.

However, this had never translated into tolerance or hesitancy. Dorn went about his duties with a zeal that often rivalled his most ruthless brothers. Already, he and his elite Templar inner circle were planning the total elimination of the so-called Dominion. The Dominion had again pestered his fleet with messages that seemed to believe that the Imperium could be dealt with as an equal. Outdated concepts like national sovereignty clearly still held sway among these backwaters, and Dorn ignored each request to leave "Dominion Space". He had sent a curt reply stating that the Imperium practiced a doctrine of Unconditional Surrender towards all states that resisted compliance. Every world that wished to surrender of it's own accord and leave the Dominion would be unharmed, of course. His calls to show loyalty to Terra were lost on the "Terrans" as they appeared to believe they had left Terra mere centuries ago, and regarded the Imperium as something entirely alien. Of course, this was to be expected, Astrates were Post-Humans and Dorn himself were so far and above on the evolutionary scale as to be barely recognisable as humans.  
In such a manner, little diplomatic progress was made.

**+++Korhal IV+++**

"Who the hell are they?"  
"I don't know, do I? Do I look like an information wizard?" Tamsen Cauley drummed his fingers on the nearest surface available, observing the still screen frame of the Imperial Fleet. The very existence of such fleet was so absurd, so totally out of line with everything he and everybody else in the Sector knew about the universe. There was Earth, there was the Koprulu Sector and there were the aliens, and that had been enough of a universe to deal with. At the time, of course, it had been an overwhelming and baffling universe at the time but it seemed a manageable and logical world in retrospect. But this Imperium had just came from nowhere, it s ships massive beyond comprehension and built like great cities of bronze and gold hanging in space lined with weapons baffling in number, it's existence a symbol of vast universe outside the boundaries of the world they'd once known, but still human. Somehow, they were still human, so similar yet so alien.  
"How to we explain this situation favorably to the Emperor?" Cauley mused aloud, expecting the General to give a useless reply. The General was not the most talented man on the Command; the most talented man had been whisked away by Valerian in his daring military adventure/political coup. No, the General in command in General Warfield's absence was a Son of Korhal Political appointed for loyalty and lack of empathy over skill and command. A questionable moustache and a double chin jointly dominated his fat, bulldog like face.  
"The Emperor is upset enough about-" Caster stopped himself before calling the event by it's proper name "the 'Char Affair' without a fleet of unidentified humans in Protoss level warships the seize of small moons, hell, some of them bigger, filled with warriors from an unknown human culture who are all above six foot and are refusing to even consider leaving Dominion space peacefully, and are set on conquering the whole darn Dominion!"  
"Perhaps," said Cauley, inspired by a thought "this is just the kind of thing the Emperor would like to know right now."  
"What?" Caster didn't try to hide his dumbfoundment at this statement.  
"Think about it General, with the Queen of Blades gone, we don't have much of a security threat anymore. And because Valerian carried out the Char operation with the aid of public enemy number one, we can t spin it off as another of His Majesties great victories. People will start to question the defence budget, resist the wartime taxation levels, and even start to say things like Hell, what s the point of the Dominion anyway . His Majesty has thrived by fighting the outsider and the oppressor, Joe. This Imperium can be the new U.E.D. the new Confederacy and the new Zerg all in one! We pull of some victories against these outsiders while Valerian and his gang of disloyal thugs are out on the Fringes messing about in alien affairs, and authority of the central government is reassured."  
"Hell," said Caster, sticking a cigar in his mouth "Never thought of it like that."  
Clauey raised a lighter, "Ever read a book by a Old Earth Guido called Machiavelli?" he asked, "cos it s helped me a lot."


	3. Chapter 3: The Honour of Second Company

"_All failings are personal failings for a Space Marine! Our power_

_is too great for the excuse of powerlessness. Self-administer fifty lashes,_

_and don't let it happen again!"_

_-Sigismund, First Captain of the Imperial Fists,_

_Ordering the Punishment of Sergeant Claus_

_and his Squad after the siege of Galdor Hive_

"Your slipping, brother."

Friedrich's épée flashed forward, surprising Claus and causing him to lose balance. He hastily parried it away before Friedrich could draw blood, and cursed himself inwardly for the unforgivable failing of losing concentration. Honour duels were sacred affairs, and no Astartes, let along a Fist, should defile them with the crime of daydreaming. It was bad enough that he was complied to defend his name before his brothers by combat, let along that he fail. Hesitation, hesitation and contemplation are for guardsmen, not Imperial Fists.

Their feet bound into blocks and their eyes hidden behind steel, grated masks, Claus and Friedrich stood facing each other before a clocked battle brother his face hidden, with slim swords named the épée by the Old Tribes of the Frank. Their chests and arms wear bear, exposing the gigantic physic and scared flesh brought about by the controlled mutation of the Gene seed and a lifetime of unrelenting military life. Claus had been on Crusade for approximately a century and a half, such a term of duty unimaginable to the mere human warriors from which the strict behavioural code of the Imperial Fists had been devised. Friedrich had been on Crusade for a mere half a century and had was already challenging Claus' honour. This fight was to maintain what was left of his standing after the Galdor incident.

_If I don't win now, my chances of promotion are gone, I may even lose my squad. What's worse, the Company's name will be soiled by my shame._

The Prussic codedemanded perfection in all affairs of military and state, and attention to every detail and a punishment for every slip. Claus had slipped on Galdor, and he had been facing the consequences of that slip ever since.

He regained his balance, and put all thought from his mind. Friedrich was a good Marine, but didn't him in experience, this should be easy. _If only I could think straight, I wouldn't have to waste time on a fight which is beneath me. _Claus cursed his lack of focus, and launched an assault on Friedrich, fainting to the left and then slashing up to the left. Friedrich beat it away and lunged straight at Claus.Claus struck the incoming blade away, and as Friedrich recovered himself, he whipped his blade across Friedrich's check. With the faintest drop of blood, Claus had maintained his honour.

_For now._

He paid little attention as the judging brother declared his victory, and took his bow with a sense of detachment. Realised from the blocks sealing his feet to the floor, he turned to leave without a word to his challenger. In the hallway outside, lit by flickering candles, he was approached by Brother Captain Alexis Polux. Polux was an old comrade, and the closest thing to a friend allowed by the serious nature of the Legion's character. His expression was concerned, he had clearly been the hooded judge over the Duel.

"This isn't good, Brother."

"I won, didn't I?" Claus deadpanned, on a bee line to his chambers.

"Yes, but you fight a Brother of lower rank like he was your equal. You won, but you won like a Battle-Brother of fifty years fighting his rival, not a Veteran Sergeant beating off a upstart. He won't be the last, it'll just get worse."

"Perhaps Friedrich is ready for promotion, perhaps his just a quick learner." Claus continued walking, without facing the stern worry of his commander.

Polux took him by the shoulder and spun him round, and spoke face to face with Claus, who met his gaze with an emotionlessness glare.

"Emperor above, Claus! You know what I mean! You've let the Galdor incident get to you too much. You should see a Chaplin, get yourself disciplined. I don't what to see one of my best Sergeants lose his position because of one mistake. The Company won't function if you aren't ready to get over your broken pride!"

"Brother-Captain, with all respect" Claus replied, removing Polux's hand from his shoulder "I think you are being overly-familiar."

Polux shook his head, and walked away, "I won't stand for any more of this slacking when we reach the surface, understand?"

Claus continued to his chambers alone after this point.

"All righty people, time to move along now."

Sergeant Virl Jenkins shook the end of his rifle at the gathering mob of disgruntled/terrified civilians gathering outside of the planetary government HQ as his squad formed up behind him. Though most hadn't understood the Imperial Propaganda message's more complex points, they knew that there was an easy way out of getting their world invaded. Many Anti-Dominion groups had already decided to throw their lot on being liberated by whoever it was who had blown the Dominion fleet to smithereens, despite the lack of any exact information on who they actually were. Jeers, Anti-Dominion slogans and a few cries of "Don't shoot!" met his order.

Jenkins, of course, was a Neurally Resocialised conscript. His particular crime was resisting arrest (it had been a slow recruiting season), but he knew many in his squad were in for Anti-Dominion activity. It would be ironic, if their brains still understood the concept.

"Now look here" he said "we are here for your own protection. If y'all just just move along no-one gets-" A beer bottle bounced off his helmet "All right, you sons of bitches! That does it! All right boys, we are under fire from terrorist elements! We better defend ourselves!"

Without the slightest concern for attacking their own people, the Dominion Marines quickly cleared away the mob with tear gas and warning shots that more often than not warned people to death. After meeting the arrest quota the local government had given them and passing them off to the Resocialisation boys, they continued with the execution of their duty. Lazing about the city square to scare off any more protests.

"Hey sarge" Private Smith approached, his ratty little face out of place in the massive armour suit "What you reckon those outlanders fight like? 'Cause, Dan says they'll fight like Protoss cos' they got some kinda shields an' shit, but I ain't heard no-where of any shields expect from Dan and he's a cheat at cards so it can't be true and I reckon-"

"Smithy boy" Jenkins waved his hand despairingly, "slow down."

Smithy stopped, and then started again, faster.

"I ask cos' if they fight like us (Marines, that is), and we Dominion Boys are best of all Marines, they are gonna be a push over but if they fight like Protoss it'll be real hard and- "

"You want to know if we're going to need Stim Packs?" Jenkins asked wearily, Resocialisation was supposed to reform junkies.

"Well, yeah, sort of Sarge" Smithy admitted "Just for safety like, preparation."

"Pack a few" Jenkins sighed, looking skyward "We don't know what they gonna be like"

Sigismund and Dorn entered the great meeting hall, and the amassed Captains rose to their feet as they strode towards the head of the table. Dorn, a golden armoured and bronze skinned demi-god shone like a light in the darkness, with magnificent appearance balanced out by his Stoic humility. Sigismund followed him, his black and white heraldry a deep contrast to his Lords. It almost seemed as if they were of different Legions, but they were one. The Templar, marked out by the black armour Dorn awarded to them, were the most zealous and elite of the Fist Legion. It's heart and soul, it was unthinkable to consider the Imperial Fists without the Templar Knights who formed it's core. A buzz of skull servitors flew over the great table, which was marked with a great black fist. The wall around the table born the heraldry of each one of the Companies, and the names of favoured recruiting worlds were dotted around them, Terra, Necromunda, Inwit. Aside from this, however, the room was sparse and without decoration. The chairs and ceiling were of dull metal and inelegant design, and the table itself free from any flourish of form or conception. Fulgrim of the Emperors Children, who usually admired the Fists strict perfectionism, had decried their lack of attention to the aesthetic of their fortress-monastery.

Dorn seated himself at the head of the table, and Sigismund stood at his right, his long seethed sword held ahead of him. Dorn addressed the assembled Captains in loud, booming tones.

"The Planetary Defences of the world are now fully broken. It would appear our appearance had already caused a great deal of panic amongst the nearby worlds, with some kind of trading combine already offering talks with us. However, our scouts can confirm that this Dominion is a large centralised Empire with a well-developed communication system and armed forces, though their fleets leave something to be desired."

Another Legion would have expressed mirth at this point, but the Fists remained serious and attentive.

" They are also extremely ignorant, and appear to know nothing of the Age of Strife or their lose of contact with Terra. It is my belief that it is necessary to bring this world to compliance by a direct invasion, as a means to test the strength of the Dominion's armies and send a message that no force can withstand the Imperium. Depending on the smoothness of the Operation, I shall decide whether or not we shall require the aid of other Legions. Fulgrim will have to do without our presence in fighting the Ogryn, as I have decided to put our full resources into bring these worlds the Imperial Truth. First and Third Companies shall lead the first wave-"

"May I speak, lord?"

All eyes turned to Alexis Polux. Dorn didn't so much as blink at the interruption, and nodded consent to Polux.

"I request Second Company replace Third in the initial landing."

"Sigismund believes that elements within Second are not appropriate for such an engagement." Claus was not mentioned by name, and nor was the Galdor incident, but everyone knew why Second Company was out of favour "Do you doubt Brother Efried's abilities?"

"By no means, Lord" Polux replied "I simply wish that my Company be allowed to prove it has done it's rightful penance through combat."

Whispers erupted round the table, Polux continued.

"I do not doubt the ability of any one of my squads in the performance of this mission. Lord, I beg to let us prove our renewed righteousness."

Dorn considered this silently for a few seconds, and then nodded in approval.

Second Company would fall upon the world below.


End file.
